snapchat fail?
by EvanesDust
Summary: Stiles doesn't hate going to the clinic. It's just so boring. And with a habit of always arriving for his appointments early, he always has a long wait. So there he is, sitting and sending some snaps to his friends when he looks up and sees the hottest guy ever. He's trying not to stare but this man is so beautiful. Well, you know what they say… Take a picture, it lasts longer.


Stiles doesn't necessarily _hate _going to the clinic. It's just _so boring_. And with the habit of always arriving for his appointments super early, he's left to bide his time reading the randomly placed brochures and pamphlets or peruse the outdated gossip magazines. Neither sound interesting. Instead, he fidgets, taking up far too much room slumped back in the chair with his legs spread wide in front of him. The groan and creak of the hard plastic earn him attention from the others sitting in the waiting room, so he shifts once more, pushing up from his slouch. Planting one foot on the floor, he pulls the other up, crossing it so his calf rests casually on his knee. He thrums his fingers on his leg as he looks through his friends' snaps.

The soft _whooshing _of the office doors draws his attention, and his mouth falls open at the sight of the hottest guy that he has ever laid eyes on. He tries not to stare, but this man is nothing short of _beautiful_. Well, as the saying goes… Take a picture, it'll last longer. Besides, Lydia will kill him if he doesn't give her proof.

The Hottie leans against an adjacent wall, looking at his phone. Good. He's distracted. The perfect opportunity to snap a pic. Stiles opens his app and tries to angle his phone, so it's not _too _obvious what he's doing. Luck, as usual, is _not_ on his side.

_Oh shit_!

The flash of his camera brightens up the waiting room like a streak of lightning.

_Shit, shit, shit_! Abort mission! Repeat, _abort mission_!

He slinks in his chair, covering his face while trying to make his body appear as small as possible. A flush of embarrassment burns across his cheeks, heating his palms. After a moment, there's a shift in the air, and he _knows _someone is standing in front of him. With a shuddering breath, he peeks through his fingers and-

_Oh God_, it's the Hottie.

"_Heeyyy…_" Stiles drops his hands and looks up with a grimace on his face. He's totally about to be punched.

The Hottie is standing there, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised in question. "So." The voice is softer than anticipated.

"My bad?" Stiles says with a nervous laugh.

The Hottie smirks as he asks, "Is this seat taken?" Followed by a nod down toward the chair next to Stiles.

"N-no," Stiles shakes his head vigorously.

"I'm Derek," The Hottie says as he takes a seat, hand extended.

"Stiles," he says, rubbing his clammy palms over his pant leg before shaking Derek's hand. "I'm so, _so_ sorry about that. I just—I— Actually, you know what..." He throws his hands in the air and shrugs his shoulders, "I got— I got nothing. Truth be told, you are _extremely _handsome, and I just wanted to share your-" he gestures wildly at Derek- "well, _everything _with my friend, Lydia, or she wouldn't believe me."

Derek ducks his head and chuckles. The gentle laugh pulls Stiles in, and he sits up, leaning a little closer. He scans Derek's face when he looks back up, trying to memorize it, making special note of the adorable pink tips of Derek's ears.

"Thank you," Derek says, smiling shyly, "you're, uh, you're not so bad yourself."

Stiles looks up in wonder. "Re—, ahem, _really_?"

Derek pulls his phone out, toying with it. "Yeah, I was, uh, a _little_ more subtle than you," he says, turning the phone towards Stiles. "Decided to keep _my _flash off…" When he speaks, there's a twinkle in his eyes.

Stiles takes the phone and looks down at the familiar face on the screen. "You took _my _picture?"

"My friend, Erica, wanted to see a pic of the hot guy I said was in the waiting room."

Stiles beam at each other, only pulled back to his surroundings when a nurse steps into the waiting room, clipboard in hand, and calling his name.

"May I?" Stiles asks, opening a new contact on Derek's phone. After receiving a nod as confirmation, he types in his number. "Text me," he states, handing the phone back.

Stiles winks at Derek as he stands. With a reluctant turn, he walks over to the nurse. A quick glance back at Derek rewards him with a smile, which he returns. Following the nurse through the doors, Stiles startles at the vibration in his pocket. Pulling his phone out, he grins widely at the new text.

_Unknown number: Hey, it's Derek. Are you free tonight?_


End file.
